Hazy Realizations
by R.W. plus me
Summary: "'Er-my-nee,' croaked Ron unexpectedly from between them. They all fell silent, watching him anxiously, but after muttering incomprehensibly for a moment he merely started snoring."
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: This is an idea I'm trying out. Happy reading and enjoy!_

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Chapter One:

It was a bit like being underwater. Like when you're in the bath and you put your face under and open your eyes. You can see the ceiling above you and the rest of the room, but you're not really a part of it. And voices sound different too. Echo-y and far away, blurred together so that words were _just_ too garbled to not make sense. Yes, it was exactly like being underwater. That's what Ron felt like.

Except he couldn't just lift his head and emerge, shaking the water out of his hair and ears and rubbing it out of his eyes. He was _trying_ to; he had been trying for the last ten minutes or however long he had woken up like this, underwater. He couldn't move his body. That was curious. He felt very heavy, and strange, like maybe his arms didn't belong to him. He was just stuck here, in his underwater, trying to get out. He discovered he couldn't talk either, despite several frustrating attempts.

Instead, he tried to remember how he had gotten here and why. His memory wasn't working properly. He remembered waking up that morning. It was his birthday! Yes, that was why he had been excited, it was his seventeenth! He had eaten chocolates someone had given him as a present. Maybe they had been from Hermione; she gave him presents he actually enjoyed. Not like Lavender, who gave him stupid things like jewelry. Well, no, Hermione wouldn't have given him the chocolates, would she have? After that, his memory went entirely blank, and the next thing he could remember he was in Slughorn's office, clad in his pajamas. Harry was there as well. Now Ron remembered! The chocolates had love potion in them! Harry had taken him to Slughorn to get the antidote! Well, that explained most things, but it didn't explain why he was like this now, why he was underwater and he couldn't talk or move. The very last thing he remembered was Harry and Slughorn toasting his birthday, and then his memory went all fuzzy and black, and he somehow had ended up here.

There were voices above him. He thought he could tell whose they were, even if he could not understand what they were saying. Here and there he could make out a word, but without context it didn't make any sense. Once or twice he thought he heard his own name. Vainly, he was listening for one voice in particular, or perhaps it was more like hoping. He was hoping he would hear her voice, despite how unlikely that was.

Yes, that was Harry talking right now. He knew it was Harry, even though he did not know what Harry was saying. And someone was answering as Harry paused. Was it…no. It was Ginny. He could just make out Ginny's voice. He listened to her speak and tried not to let disappointment flood through him. Then another voice, a new one. It was….one of the twins. They were as alike in Ron's underwater world as they were in life, and Ron couldn't make out which one was speaking at the moment. He thought it might be Fred; Fred was always slightly louder. But it could be George…

Ron was getting bored. He didn't do well sitting still for long periods of time; Hermione had told him this repeatedly as he had fidgeted through lessons, bouncing his leg or twirling his quill or tapping his fingers on the desk. But now he couldn't do any of those things; he couldn't lift his finger even, and he didn't think he was holding a quill. Besides, there wasn't the added benefit of having Hermione there, anyway. Sometimes, when he fidgeted and she got fed up with him, she'd put her hand over his leg or his hand or whatever he was moving to stop him. Whenever she did that he'd get a curious jolt in his stomach and he'd get a bit dizzy just thinking about her touching him, even if it was just for a second. But, he remembered sadly, that hadn't happened in a long time. She had stopped sitting next to him once he made the world's biggest mistake.

And, because he had absolutely nothing better to do with himself other than mentally beat himself over the head for the millionth time, he remembered that night in the common room. It had been right after he had won the match against Slytherin. They had played brilliantly…

_He stalked through the common room portrait hole, stamping his feet and realizing he looked childish without really caring. There were so many things going through his mind he didn't even think about the people around him and how he would appear. And there was one thing in particular that was blocking up his brain right now._

_Hermione._

_He had tried out for the team for _her_. To prove to her that he wasn't completely rubbish at everything. He was rubbish at lessons and he was probably the worst Prefect Hogwarts had ever seen. Sometimes he was even a rubbish friend. But he wasn't entirely bad at Quidditch; he had been playing since Bill had taught him the summer after his sixth year at Hogwarts; he had been Captain. It had been Ron's best summer. He felt good when he was in the air, he felt freer from everyone. So when Wood left and he heard they were holding trials he thought he might as well give it a go. Hermione had already proven that she liked Quidditch players. Maybe if she saw him in the air, deflecting every shot that came his way and winning the Cup for Gryffindor, she would start to like him back. He wanted to impress her; he wanted to show her that he could be good at something too._

_Well, to say that the plan had backfired would be a massive understatement. It turned out he was rubbish at Quidditch as well. It also turned out that playing catch with your brother in the orchard is entirely different than Keeping for the House team while the rest of the school watched on and the Slytherins sang nasty songs to and about you. His plan of impressing Hermione went out the window. Now he was just hoping not to embarrass himself, and her._

_But today. Today he had played brilliantly. It was the kind of match he had wanted Hermione to see all along. He had saved practically everything, and everyone had been screaming for him. The shouts of the crowd still reverberated in his ears, pushing past his anger at Hermione. Gryffindor had won, and for the first time it had been because of him, not in spite of him. _

_Hermione thought he had been given lucky potion, and when Harry had said he hadn't given it to him at all, he had just pretended, Ron had started shouting at Hermione. He wasn't entirely sure why he had done it; he thought he had been given it as well, but then he realized that she had just confirmed everything he dreaded that she thought about him. He was useless. It was impossible for him to do anything without help. He wasn't worthy._

_At these last thoughts Ron kicked a chair and then kicked it again when he didn't feel anything. Now his toes hurt. He wanted to prove Hermione wrong. He could do _some_ things well. And he could do them without help. He looked savagely around the common room at all of the grinning faces. He could have been like that, but Hermione had ruined it for him._

_He spotted Lavender Brown a few feet away from him. He wasn't sure what he thought of her. Actually, for five years he had found her quite annoying. She giggled a lot and gave mean looks to people behind their backs. Ron had suspected that he had been the subject of many of these looks in past years, but something had changed this year. Now she beamed at him and waved to him whenever she saw him. She had even batted her eyelashes once, but Ron had convinced himself that he had been imagining that one. Ron was pretty oblivious to most signs – Hermione told him this constantly – but he was almost positive that Lavender Brown fancied him. He stopped kicking the chair._

_Half-formed thoughts were flooding through his brain. Lavender Brown was a girl. A very attractive girl, even Ron could see that. She liked Ron. Ron didn't much like her, but that wasn't the point. The point was that Hermione thought he was useless. If he could prove to her that he wasn't useless, maybe then she would finally understand how much he liked her. The Quidditch plan had backfired, but that didn't mean that every plan had to turn out badly. Besides, how could getting with Lavender turn out badly? He wasn't sure what he had to do to execute this plan; he'd never even kissed a girl. And then he remembered, with an unpleasant jolt in his stomach, Ginny saying that Hermione snogged Vikor Krum. Well, Ron thought, standing up straighter and squaring his shoulders, if that wasn't justification for what he was about to do, he didn't know what was. Stupid Viktor Krum with his stupid Quidditch team and stupid accent and stupid fame._

_He walked up to Lavender, and despite himself he felt a bit nervous. He had absolutely no idea what he was getting himself into. He just needed to show Hermione that he wasn't a speck of dirt she could carelessly brush off her shoe. He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked down at Lavender, who was blushing deeply._

_Lavender said something, but in the din of the common room Ron couldn't hear what she had said. He leaned down slightly to ask her to repeat herself, and before he knew it she had launched herself onto him, kissing him right on the mouth and wrapping her arms around his neck. Ron was frozen for about five seconds, and then realized he should be _doing_ something. He kissed her back. He hoped Hermione was here right now, watching them…_

Ron returned from the memory of the common room back to the underwater world he was trapped in. He had been over than night in his mind more times than he cared to count. It had all gone so wrong, and he didn't know how to ever make it right. In some ways, he had done exactly what he wanted to: he had shown Hermione that he was just as capable as she was to get someone to snog them. He had shown her that he wasn't useless. But the consequences had been more severe than he'd thought: Hermione couldn't even be in the same room as him anymore. They hadn't talked in months and she gave him looks whenever she walked past him. But the worst part was the hurt look on her face whenever she didn't think he was looking; the expression her face made whenever she saw him with Lavender. Ron finally understood the irreparable damage he had done by kissing Lavender. He was an idiot.

And yet he was still listening for her voice. Harry was talking again, in response to something that Ginny had said. And he was still listening for Hermione. Even though he had hurt her in ways he didn't think were possible, even though he had flaunted his relationship in front of her purely to hurt her as much as she had hurt him, he was still listening for her. Because it didn't matter that he had been snogging Lavender for the last few months; he would always be listening for Hermione. She _was_ the point. She always would be. But he had ruined it all with his stupid plan with Lavender. If he could move his arms, he would hit himself.

There was a pause in the noise above him, and then a new voice joined the symphony of voices he had been listening to for the last twenty minutes. It was a girl's voice, soft and gentle and beautiful. Hermione. She was here after all. Ron wanted to jump or shout or say something. She was here! She was sitting by his bed! She cared, she really cared. Ron wanted to cry. He wanted to escape this trapped feeling and open his eyes and tell her everything. He needed to tell her everything. All of the mistakes, all of his foolish attempts to prove himself to her. But how? How could he speak?

"_Hermione!_" he shouted at the top of his lungs. "_Hermione! Hermione! Hermione!_" he kept on shouting. Curiously, his voice wasn't making any sounds. But on the last try, he managed to get something out. He tried again. It was garbled, just like the voices he could hear above him. But this was better than nothing at all, so he tried again.

"Er-my-nee," he managed to croak out, and somehow he knew that this had broken the surface of the water and reached all of the people above him. He heard the voice stop at the sound of his voice. He had said her name! He tried again, but he felt very, very tired. As if saying her name had taken everything out of him. He felt himself slipping into sleep. He tried to say her name once more, but it was only muttering. He didn't mind much. He had said it. And she was here. And with that thought, he fell asleep, hoping that when he woke up he'd be out of this water and Hermione wouldn't have left.

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_Author's Note: I'm working on the second part which is Hermione's point of view...please tell me what you think. Is it okay? Is it total crap?_


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: Thank you all for the lovely reviews! It made me write this a bit faster…_

_Happy reading and enjoy!_

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Chapter Two:

Hermione sat so far on the edge of the chair that she was endanger of falling off. But she didn't seem to notice. She glanced at her watch again, carefully, so that Professor Flitwick wouldn't know she was checking it. That _couldn't_ be right. She tapped the face of her watch again, it must be broken; surely it had been more than thirty seconds since the last time she'd checked. She watched the tiny hand move closer and closer to the twelve, waiting for it to turn three o' clock. She had packed her bag three minutes ago, something she had always scolded Harry and Ron for doing. Class ended when the bell rang, not five minutes before when _you_ were ready for class to end. But here she was, doing exactly what she hated. Well, she had an excuse, didn't she?

The bell signaling the end of the day and the beginning of a weekend sounded, echoing through the stone walls of the castle. Many of the students had been inattentive; Friday's lessons were particularly bad, especially the last one of the day. Attention spans ran low and some students didn't even bother to take notes, something Hermione had never understood. But for the first time, Hermione had joined their ranks. And she was out of the door before some of them had even left their seats.

She wove through the sea of black cloaks, trying to maneuver her way around students much taller and larger than she was. A few people called out angrily behind her, but she took no notice. She had only one thing on her mind. She groaned impatiently as some troll-of-a-seventh-year made his way casually down the middle of the staircase so that Hermione didn't have room to move around him. Didn't he know she had somewhere important to be?

Finally, she skidded ungracefully to a halt outside of the double doors that led to the hospital wing. She realized that she was slightly out of breath and her hair must be a sight, so she sacrificed a minute to put her bag down and smooth out her hair, taking deep breaths and trying to calm herself. It wasn't just the running that had caused her heart to beat faster. Her heart had been pounding all day. All of this week and the week before that, in fact. Ever since she and Ron had started speaking again.

She wasn't quite sure how it had happened, really. They hadn't spoken for months, ever since he had glued himself to Lavender Brown. She shuddered in spite of herself. On his birthday she had purposefully slept in late, knowing full well that they would take the opportunity to be even more nauseating than they normally were. Hermione had wondered if Lavender and Ron were making it their life goal to snog in every inch of the castle. So on his birthday she had woken up late and took her time getting ready for breakfast. In truth she'd much rather hide in the dormitory all day, but she hated cowardice and if any act would admit defeat, hiding in her bed all day would be it. When she had arrived in the common room, however, Lavender was there alone. She looked slightly hurt, and Hermione had thought – with a flutter in her heart – that perhaps she and Ron had split up. She had crossed the room, relieved that she had dodged Ron and Lavender, and decided to have a breakfast she knew she'd – finally – be able to stomach. There were a few gossiping girls crowded around the portrait hole, and she shifted from one foot to another waiting for them to decide which way they were going. She was about to ask them loudly to move when she caught the tail end of their conversation.

"…yeah, Ron Weasley, that's what I heard," one of the girls said. Hermione froze.

"Excuse me," she said, her voice shaking slightly. "Did you…did you just say Ron's name?" she asked, feeling slightly foolish. She didn't even know why she'd asked.

One of the girls nodded. "Yes, didn't you hear? Apparently he was poisoned this morning. But it's going to be okay, he was in Slughorn's office when it happened, everyone thinks it was just a mix-up," she said carelessly, her tone slightly bored. Hermione's mouth dropped open.

"_Poisoned_?" she shouted, and quite a few people standing near her turned to stare. Another girl from the gossiping group shrugged unconcernedly. Hermione pushed her out of the way and ran all the way to the hospital wing, where she found Harry waiting outside and he told her what had happened.

And here she was, two weeks later, standing breathlessly outside the hospital wing. But things were very different now. It wasn't horror that flooded her veins but anticipation. _Good_ anticipation. Because in those two weeks, somehow, miraculously, she and Ron had become friends again. When she had seen him lying in the hospital bed, his face nearly as white as the blanket covering him, she realized it didn't matter that he had been sticking his tongue down Lavender's throat for the better part of the term. He was her best friend, and she cared about him. Maybe he didn't care about her in the same way, but seeing him lying there made her realize that even if she had to put up with Lavender, it was worth it, because they were _friends_. She would just have to put all of those feelings away for right now. She could do that. Well, she could _try_.

Her breathing had finally returned to normal, so she shouldered her bag and pushed open the doors of the hospital wing. It was quiet and only two beds were occupied. One was Harry's who had been here since Sunday when Cormac McLaggen had hit him over the head with the bat. Hermione shuddered remembering it, sitting helplessly in the stands while Harry fell to the ground. His dark head poked out from the blankets around him; he was sleeping. The other bed was Ron's. He was sitting up reading _The Prophet_, a mug of tea by his bed. He looked up when she entered and a grin split his face. Hermione felt her heart beat even faster.

"Hey," he said, as she sat down in the chair by his bed and put her bag on the ground next to her.

"Hi," she said, wondering if it would be a giveaway to put her hand to her chest to stop her heart from beating so fast. So much for calming down. "How are you feeling?" she asked.

Ron shrugged, looking around the room. "I'm fine. I wish they'd let me go today. This is getting boring," he said nonchalantly, and Hermione smiled.

"You're getting released tomorrow though," she said, and an alarming thought tingled her spine. What would happen when Ron was out of the hospital wing? Maybe this spell would break and they would just go back to not speaking to one another and Lavender would go back to being another one of Ron's appendages.

Ron nodded. "Yeah, I can leave at noon, Harry can too. Are you going to come and see us off?" he asked, grinning and Hermione smiled too, all of the previous doubts leaving her mind. Of course it wouldn't be different when he got out.

"I wouldn't miss it," Hermione said, blushing in spite of herself. They sat there grinning stupidly at each other, then looked away hurriedly, both red in the face. Ron took a sip of his tea for something to do, which was apparently too hot to drink because he choked on it and spat it out. Hermione made a sympathetic face. She reached out to thump him on the back but thought better of it at the last moment and pretended to fix her chair instead.

"I'll be happy to leave this place," Ron said, wiping his mouth on the corner of his blankets as Hermione pretended not to watch. "I don't know why but the food here is crap," he said, and Hermione laughed.

"Oh," she said, reaching for her bag. "That reminds me," she opened it and started pushing the many books around, searching for the object she was looking for.

"I didn't know that Hogwarts had decided to run the library out of your bag," Ron joked. "How many books do you have in there?"

"Ha, ha," Hermione said dryly, but she was glad that her hair was covering her face because she really was smiling. _This_ was what she missed; the constant banter between them. It had taken a few days for it to emerge; at first with so many months apart they were awkward around each other, but eventually they realized they couldn't have a conversation without bickering or poking fun of one another. The first few days had been terrible: they had been horribly polite to one another and much too formal, until one day Ron – who was undoubtedly overtired or Hermione was sure he wouldn't have said it quite so bluntly – finally blurted out "Look, can we start arguing again? It's weird when we're being so nice to each other." And although Hermione didn't want to admit it, he was right. They _did_ argue. It made them, well…them.

"Here it is," she said, pulling the sought after package out of her bag. It was a little crumpled from where books had rested on it, but Hermione knew Ron wouldn't mind. She held out the box to him, and he took it hesitantly.

"What is it?" he asked, eying the package in his hands curiously. Hermione sat back in her chair, pleased with herself.

"I wrote to mum and asked her to send me them. I just got it this morning. I know you like them so…" she trailed off as Ron looked at her expectantly. "Open it," she said, blushing. Ron raised an eyebrow but opened the package, tearing the paper off and revealing a box of chocolates. Ron looked thrilled.

"Wow, Hermione. Thanks!" he said, opening the box and offering her one. She shook her head, and he gave her a knowing grin. He popped one in his mouth and smiled at her. Hermione felt her heart palpitate.

"I thought you might like them," she said. "And I thought you might want to stick with Muggle chocolates and stay away from magic ones, considering…" she said, trailing off again. She didn't like talking about what had almost happened. It made her nervous, even though she was sitting next to a perfectly healthy Ron right now. He had been so _close_, so lucky.

Ron shook his head. "Nah, you know I'd never be able to stay away from chocolate," he said, and Hermione laughed. "Though I _have_ learned a lesson about staying away from mad girls like Romilda Vane and Lav –" he stopped abruptly and looked extremely guilty, as if he had given himself away. Hermione busied herself with fastening the clasp of her bag instead of looking at him.

When she sat back up again the air around them was still slightly awkward. They both knew whose name Ron had been about to say, though neither one wanted to admit it. Although they were both talking again, there were certain topics that they had to stay away from, the main one being Lavender. As far as they were concerned the last few months hadn't existed, the best thing to do was to start over and deal with the more serious problems when their friendship wasn't quite so fragile.

"Oh, you'll never guess what happened in Transfiguration today," Hermione said, a bit too loudly due to the discomfort surrounding them. Ron perked up at once, happy to leave the awkwardness of Lavender behind them. So Hermione embarked on her story, telling a delighted Ron that Malfoy hadn't been paying attention, and had therefore somehow managed to give the piglet they were meant to turn into a duck a spectacular set of wings, which had sprouted the inevitable and predictable jokes. By the end of the story Ron was in stitches from laughing so hard.

"You've got to be joking! I can't believe that out of all the lessons, I had to miss the one where Malfoy made an arse out of himself," Ron choked out, wiping his streaming eyes with the back of his hand.

Hermione bit her lip, thinking. "Actually, it was rather strange. Malfoy didn't seem to mind at all. He almost didn't even realize he had done it," she said, half to herself. She glanced at Harry's sleeping form. "Maybe Harry was right. Maybe there's something going on with Malfoy," she said thoughtfully.

Ron shrugged in a bored sort of way. "Maybe. But this is Malfoy we're talking about. He's a slimy git, what else is to be expected of him? I think it's rather unlikely he's a _Death Eater_ though, know what I mean? He's sixteen, and not to mention he's completely _useless_." he said angrily, his dislike for Malfoy appearing on every inch of his still-pale face.

The conversation came easily after this. They had so much to talk about, after all. Hermione had saved several stories in the back of her mind so that she could tell them to Ron if they ever became friends again, and it was apparent that he had done the same thing, as he was currently in the middle of telling her a story from something that had happened in mid-December. Hermione told him about what was happening in the rest of the castle and Ron told her about the people who came into the hospital wing sporting amusing or unusual ailments. Neither one realized how long they had been talking until Madam Pomfrey came around to light the lamps, as the sun had begun to set. Hermione sat up straight and looked around.

"I should probably go to dinner," she said, trying to keep the regret out of her voice.

"Yeah, alright," Ron said, who was just as unsuccessful as she had been to hide disappointment.

"Do you want me to bring you something up?" she asked, and although she meant it as a joke, she was hoping he'd say yes. It would give her another chance to see him again.

Ron thought. "Do you think you could manage to bring up some Sheppard's Pie?" he asked hopefully, and Hermione laughed because this hadn't been the first time he asked.

"I'll try," she said. "I'll bring something for Harry too," she said, looking over at their other friend, who was still sound asleep.

"I don't think he slept well last night," Ron said, answering Hermione's silent question. "He kept on muttering to himself and tossing and turning," Ron added. Hermione bit her lip, worried. He wasn't supposed to have dreams like that. She stood up and slung her bag over her shoulder. Giving Ron one last smile she left the hospital wing, feeling curiously light and very happy.

In the doorway she bumped into someone, and she took a step back, hitting her head on the door. She gasped in surprise and pain and looked to see who she had walked into. It was Lavender.

"Oh," she said, feeling a strange surge of emotion. For the last few months she had positively hated Lavender; though of course she would have flat-out denied this if she were asked. She was pretty sure that Lavender didn't like her much either, she never really had. The fact was that they were two very different girls who had very little in common, despite sharing a dormitory for nearly six years. But when Ron was thrown into everything, Hermione found Lavender practically unbearable.

Now, however, seeing Lavender standing there uncertainly in the shadowy corridor, Hermione felt strange. The last few months, the sight of Lavender Brown made Hermione want to cry and scream, though mostly cry. But after nearly three hours of talking with Ron, Hermione didn't hate Lavender quite as much.

"Um, hi," Hermione said nervously. She wondered if it would be rude to just leave now, but something kept her rooted to the spot.

"Hi," Lavender said, and her voice was cold. It made Hermione shudder. "So, he's awake then?" she asked.

Hermione thought her safest bet would be to feign ignorance, even if she knew Lavender wouldn't fall for it. "Awake? Yes, he's awake, why?" she asked innocently.

Just as she predicted, Lavender rolled her eyes. "Don't be stupid, Hermione. Ron pretends to be asleep every time I visit him, we both know that," she said, and her voice quivered slightly. Hermione was at a loss of what to do. Hermione knew that Ron feigned sleep whenever Lavender came to visit him; she had been told this by a slightly bemused Harry.

"Oh," she said, looking down at her feet. "Um, yes. He's awake," she said again.

Lavender laughed sadly. "Well, he won't be when I walk in there," she said, more to herself than to Hermione. Hermione continued to look at her feet. She wondered if she could escape now.

"You know, it's rather ironic," Lavender said softly. "You've been jealous of me all this time, when really, I've been jealous of you."

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, though she wasn't quite sure what to say. The first thing that came to mind was to deny being jealous of Lavender, but she couldn't quite manage it. She thought of all of the times she had seen Lavender and Ron together; holding hands, kissing, whispering things that made the other blush. She thought of how that had made her feel. Like there was a huge empty hole in her chest, making her feel hollow and empty. Like there was a weight pressing heavily against her eyes, threatening tears at any moment. She thought of all the times she had cried at night, her face pressed against her pillow. But it wasn't just crying; it was deep, drawn-out sobbing that left her exhausted and raw. And that feeling had lingered; that emotional exhaustion reverberating every time she chanced a glance and him and he was looking at her. Perhaps that was what jealousy felt like.

Lavender laughed coldly. "I bet you didn't even realize it," she said, her eyes flickering across Hermione's blushing face. _Had she been jealous_?

"But," Hermione said, pulling herself out of her thoughts and looking at Lavender, "Why would _you_ be jealous of _me_?" she asked. As far as she was concerned, there was absolutely nothing she had that Lavender Brown would want. Except perhaps top grades, but Hermione didn't think Lavender didn't care about that sort of thing.

Lavender smiled sadly. "Because it was supposed to be you, Hermione." Lavender said. Hermione opened her mouth to ask, but Lavender shook her head and continued talking before Hermione could get a question out. "Don't you think I know? It wasn't supposed to be me, it never was. It was always you," she said, and all of the coldness had left her voice.

"I don't understand what you mean," Hermione whispered. Lavender looked steadily at her, holding her gaze.

"Ron loves _you_, Hermione. I've known ever since I started going out with him. At first I thought – I hoped – that maybe he liked me, and maybe he did…a little. But I noticed. The way he talks about you, the way he'll jump at anyone who says anything _slightly_ bad about you. The way he says your _name_ even," Lavender said disdainfully. Hermione swallowed hard, waiting for Lavender to continue because she was honestly at a loss for words.

"Mainly," Lavender said sadly. "It's the way he looks at you. When he thinks I'm not looking, and especially when he thinks _you're_ not looking. I've never…I couldn't make him look at me like that, no matter how many times I kissed him or complimented him," Lavender said.

Hermione's head was whirling. The way he looked at her? How did he look at her? She wanted to ask but she knew it would be insensitive to ask Lavender to describe it. "Lavender, I…" she said, without knowing what she should tell the girl.

Lavender shook her head. "Ever since we started going out, I've been jealous of _you_. Because I want him to look at _me_ like that, I want him to say _my_ name the way he says yours, with as much care and tenderness and he does." Lavender shrugged. "But he can't, can he? He's loved you all along. I was just there to make you see that," she said with a cold little laugh that had anything but mirth in it.

Hermione swallowed hard. Should she apologize? She didn't know what to say. What she wanted to do more than anything was to rush back into the hospital wing and tell Ron everything Lavender had just said, demand if it were true or not. Had Lavender just been someone to make Hermione jealous? To make Hermione realize that her feelings for Ron couldn't just be shelved and stored for later?

"Well," Lavender said loudly, and Hermione jumped in surprise. "I better go in there so he can pretend to be asleep and I can pretend to be ignorant of the fact that he's perfectly fine," she said bitterly, and she strode past Hermione, brushing her shoulder as she passed. Ordinarily Hermione would have rolled her eyes and said something biting, but she couldn't bring herself to do it.

"Lavender," Hermione said suddenly, and Lavender paused, her hand on the door. "If you knew…if you saw…why didn't…why are you still…why are you still with Ron?" she asked.

Lavender bit her lip, her eyes bright. "Because I loved him too, Hermione," she said, and then she flung open the door to the hospital wing where, sure enough, Ron's soft fake-snores could be heard from within.

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_Author's Note: Well, this turned out a bit longer than I planned! I'm not sure if that last part would be entirely canon. I might get hate emails for this but: I don't like Lavender Brown much but I think – despite her portrayal in the films – that she's not an idiot. And I sort of feel bad for her…who wouldn't fall in love with Ron? She must have had some idea what was going on between Ron and Hermione, and if she did, then she must have had some reason for not breaking up with him. Hence, the last conversation. Is it okay?_

_I'm thinking of possibly adding to this story…any suggestions for continuing? Different points of view?_


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